


Fallingforyou

by irregularuby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Human Castiel, Inspired by Music, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 17:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irregularuby/pseuds/irregularuby
Summary: High school was not supposed to be better than middle school, in fact it was supposed to be far worse. But Castiel just had to fall into Dean's life.





	1. Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hope this doesn't blow up in my face!! I'll try to update and not make this terrible :) enjoy

Dean hated school.  
He hated the smells and the noise and the people and frankly the education was not worth the experience.  
He hated school.  
He wouldn't have come but his dad was already on his ass for skipping more days than not last year. So he sat down two minutes after the first bell rang with 20 other self conscious teenagers who reeked of body odor and anxiety.  
He stared through his homeroom teacher, who he'd already forgotten the name of, and tried not to fall asleep to the drone of his voice.  
A young, unfamiliar voice rang through his ears and Dean sat up staring at the unidentified man, "I apologize for my tardiness, sir, but today was my first day and I got rather lost."  
"What's your name?"  
"Castiel Novak."  
"Weren't you here for the freshmen tour?"  
"No sir, we just moved in yesterday."  
"Where you from, Mr. Novak?"  
"New York, sir."  
"That's quite a bit different than Kansas, what are you doing here?"  
"My father applied for a new job here, sir."  
"Alright then, my name's Mr. Ariah, you can take an available seat."  
The boy nodded and looked around the room until he leveled his gaze to Dean.  
Dean looked away.  
The boy walked across the room, and came to a stop next to Dean. He took a seat next to his in the last row where only the two of them sat.  
"Hello. My name is Castiel," he said once he caught Dean's eye again.  
"Dean Winchester," he replied with a lazy smile.  
The boy was just a bit shorter than himself and had dark, mussed up hair that was on the verge of being too long. His eyes looked like orbs crafted from shards of the sky, they practically glowed.  
He seemed desperate for conversation.  
"That's an interesting name," Dean supplied.  
"My father is quite the religious folk," Castiel said eagerly  
"Who were you named after?"  
"The angel of thursdays."  
"Huh, well you sure look the part," Dean exaggerated his wink.  
Castiel smiled, a slight turn of the corners of his mouth but it opened up his whole face as his eyes twinkled and his forehead smoothed out.  
Dean coughed and looked down at the desk.  
"Nothing's really happened so far, he's just lecturing us about course expectations and school rules, yada, yada, yada."  
"Oh, good, yada, yada, yada is my specialty."  
Dean laughed.  
"How do you like Kansas so far?"  
"I haven't seen much, but its very different than New York."  
"Yea, there isn't much to see unless you like wheat fields and dry weather."  
"I don't mind, it's just nice to get away from the cold."  
"Yeah we have like winter but it only gets to like 20° at the lowest and it only snows like twice a year, but it's real awesome when it does."  
"I guess the scarcity just makes the it more special."  
Dean studied him, "Where’d you learn to speak like that?"  
“Like what?”  
“You speak like you’re having tea with the queen in England, no offense.”  
“None taken. I’m not sure why I speak like this, it’s just the way I learned to speak I suppose. No one else in my family speaks like this, my siblings make fun of the way I talk frequently, they say I sound like I’m from the 1600’s, then I say that’s historically inaccurate as old english is very different than just phrasing your words a bit strangely. It’s all right though.”  
Dean grinned, sincere but slightly impish, his eyes crinkled and cheek dimpled, his green eyes shone brighter than ever and Castiel found it hard to look away.  
Color bloomed on Cas' cheeks and his skin faded from a slight tan to a bright flush. Cas felt about 10° warmer and his gut felt noticeably but not unpleasantly like lava.  
“Everytime it snows me and Sammy, my kid brother, go out and build snowmen, it’s freaking amazing dude, I wish it snowed more often, it’s like cold cotton.”  
“Well, actually, it’s cold water.”  
“Very funny, man.”  
“How old’s your brother?”  
“He’s 10, but he’s a genius, he’s already smarter than I am.”  
“He sounds like a good kid.”  
“He is. But he’s a freaking nerd, reads encyclopedias for fun,” Dean chuckled.  
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Cas protested.  
Dean eyeballed him, “Sure there isn't. How many siblings you got?”  
“Just three, Anna, Luke, and Michael, but I have like twenty cousins, my family’s far too big to keep track.”  
“It must be hard for Anna growing up with three boys, and as unbehaved as you, too.”  
“Anna’s used to it, Luke isn’t around much so there’s that, he’s got his own job and his own dorm, it’s his second year of college, Michael’s convinced he’ll drop out before the end.”  
“How old are the other two?”  
“I’m the youngest, Anna’s a sophomore, and Michael’s a senior.”  
“Man, must be rough for you parents having to deal with four teenagers.”  
“My father is usually occupied with his work so he doesn’t really “deal”... my mom’s dead.”  
“I’m sorry, man,” Dean said, Cas looked up and was relieved to see the absence of pity in Dean's eyes.  
“It’s alright, she died very shortly after I was born.’  
Dean nodded, “My mom passed away too, when I turned four.”’  
“I'm sorry, I can't imagine losing someone at that age.“  
“Yea… well, I guess we’ll just have to be brothers without mothers.”  
Castiel smiled (teeth showing).  
Dean smiled back (not a grin).  
Neither looked away.  
They listened to Mr. Ariah drone for a few minutes. Something about the Poetry unit they were doing, before Dean turned his attention back to Cas.  
“Hey buddy, what’s your next class?”  
“Err,” Cas shuffled through a stack of papers, “I have science next, what about you?”  
“I have social studies,” Dean pouted just as the bell rang, “Well see you later.”  
“See you then.”  
***  
Cas was in Dean third period as well. Dean's heart beat much too fast when Cas went to take a seat next to him.  
"Hello Dean,” Cas smiled.  
"Hey Cas,” Dean grinned.  
"Hello class," the teacher started the second the bell rang. There were a few mumbled "hellos" back but the room soon fell quiet and the silence stretched as the teacher looked lazily around the room.  
She had deep brown hair and sharp eyes but an air of disinterest and judgement at the same time. She looked in her early thirties or late twenties and if she weren't your teacher you'd be scared of her. To be honest you would be scared of her if she was your teacher too.  
"My name is Ms. Bee," she dragged out the "e" in her last name, "You'll speak when spoken to and you'll call me 'Ms. Bee', 'Ma'am' unless otherwise instructed to? Capisce?"  
Nods around the room.  
"Cool," she said, monotone, "I'll learn your names sooner or later. Let's get right into the math, time is money."  
She handed out a seven page packet filled with problems, front and back.  
Everybody groaned.  
“Oh, come on,” Dean whined softly to Cas, “it’s the first day! I don’t think I even have a pencil in my backpack.”  
“I have some if you would like. “  
“Thanks man,” Dean whispered.  
“Yea, sure,” Cas said at full volume.  
Dean winced.  
“Is there a problem, boys?”  
“Only problem we have are the problems in our packet!” Dean said too brightly.  
Ms. Bee rolled her eyes and went back to her laptop.  
“Dude, why don’t you whisper?”  
“I’m not sure, I guess my vocal chords can’t handle it or something,” Cas said as quietly as he could.  
Dean grinned, “That’s so weird.”  
Cas blushed and looked down, “What did you get for number three?”  
They worked on the packet (or rather talked until Ms. Bee roamed around the classroom like a hawk) until the bell rang.  
“What’s your next class?”  
“I’ve got study hall.”  
“Me too,” Dean beamed, “Who do you have?”  
“I’ve got Singer.”  
“Nice. Me too.”  
“Do you know where it is?”  
“In the tech room?”  
“It says in the D wing.”  
“That’s like across the school. It doesn’t matter if we’re late to study hall right?”  
“We should still try to make it on time.”  
“You don’t need to suck up to him, Cas, he’s basically not even your teacher.”  
“I’m not! I just want to be to his class on time.”  
“Well, I’m not running unless I’m being chased.”  
“Well, neither am I.”  
“Good.”  
“We should walk a little faster though.”  
“...”  
“I saw that.”  
“Saw what?”  
“You rolled your eyes at me.”  
“No… I was just checking the ceiling.”  
“Find anything interesting?”  
“Yea, you know there’s gullible written up there?”  
“Really?”  
“...”  
“...”  
“Ow! Why’d you hit me.”  
“Stop laughing! Dean! I’m serious! You shouldn’t trick innocent people like that. And that was barely a tap.”  
“You’re too innocent. You’re like Bambi, I’ve got to be the hunter that kills your mom so you can mature and grow a pair.”  
“A pair of antlers?”  
“Yes…”  
“Dean growth doesn’t work like that, he would’ve grown antlers even if his mom didn’t die. Also why did you bring up Bambi, out of all the other analogies you could have used.”  
“Shut up.”  
The late bell rang overhead.  
“Well I guess we’re late,” Dean sighed sarcastically.  
“You didn’t even try!”  
“Neither did you!”  
“What room did you say it was?”  
“D117.”  
“Dean! We passed it!”  
“No, look we’re at 113, the numbers are getting bigger, 111, 109… Oh.”  
“Dean! Come on, let’s go, good job there.”  
“Hey this isn’t my fault! It was a team effort.”  
“What do you me-”  
“Hey!” A deep voice shouted at them, they turned to watch as a gruff bearded man walked out of a classroom, “Where are you supposed to be right now?”  
“We’re trying to find D117, sir,” Cas spoke timidly.  
“Well you already passed it. You’re with me.”  
“Good thing you were yapping so loud, if I hadn’t stopped y’all you would’ve walked right to the end of the hallway and then straight outside.”  
“Sorry about that, sir.”  
“Yea, alright, what’re your names?”  
“Dean.”  
“Castiel.”  
“There’s no way I’m remembering that,” Mr. Singer huffed out a laugh.  
***  
“Hey Cas, you wanna sit with us during lunch,” Dean said as the bell rang.  
“Yes, I would, who’s us?”  
“Me, you, and my three friends.”  
“Sounds great.”  
The corners of Cas' mouth flipped up and so did Dean's stomach.  
Cas' smiles seemed to cause Dean to lapse into coughing fits where he took in too much air but at the same time not enough.  
That was the third time that day.  
They approached a table with a few kids already chatting amongst themselves.  
“Hey guys.”  
“Hey, Dean!”  
“Hey, man.”  
“What’s up, bro?”  
Then they focused their eyes on the newcomer.  
“This is Cas, he’s new here.”  
“So are we, we’re freshmen too,” a dark haired boy said.  
“He means he moved from somewhere else, Kevin,” said the other boy, exasperated.  
“I knew that…”  
Dean and Castiel sat down and Cas surveyed the table.  
There was Dean, who had short light brown hair and emerald green eyes that glittered in the light and shined in the dark. He had a field of freckles across his nose that Cas wanted to count one by one, it was like Dean was a whole galaxy and his freckles were the stars.  
Across the table there was a girl with deep red hair, a charming smile, and excitable energy. Sat next to her was the boy named Kevin, Asian with spiky hair, sharp features, and brown eyes. And right next to Dean sat a stocky boy with the starts of a beard and warm eyes, who could either be a teddy bear or grizzly bear depending on how you crossed him.  
Dean pointed at each person as he said their name. "This is Charlie," red haired girl, "Kevin," which he already knew, "and Benny," beard boy.  
“Where are you from, Cas?”  
“I’m from New York.”  
“And apparently in New York they don’t whisper.”  
Cas rolled his eyes.  
“Seriously dude?” Charlie said, eyes wide.  
“I don’t know, I guess I can’t strain my vocal chords like that.”  
“What? No, I mean what’s New York like, although not being able to whisper is a bit weird.”  
“New York is really just like Kansas, except louder, colder, and it has less cows and wheat field.”  
“Did you ride in taxis everyday? Have you met any celebrities?”  
“No, I didn’t live in the city.”  
“Oh. Well that’s still cool.”  
They lapsed into comfortable conversation  
Castiel observed that Benny and Dean were the closest out of the four and when they talked they exchanged the words "bro", "buddy", "dude", and "man" far more than necessary. Benny had a very deep voice and the air he carried could be seen as frightening if you didn’t know him well enough. Dean was far more relaxed with this group than he had been in the two morning classes they shared.  
Charlie acted much younger than she was and liked sci-fi and badass women. She also raised her voice up at the end of sentences even if they weren't questions and although Cas hadn't seen her jump up and down from excitement he could clearly picture her doing it.  
Castiel also learned that Kevin's best friend was his mother and he played Fortnite too much. Kevin also seemed reserved but really he was just uninterested. He said things bluntly and liked to whine.  
Benny told Cas the last time he had gone out to a party was Christmas last year. To this he told Benny that he should "Shut up" because "he goes out every week but hasn't gotten any since Andrea joined the cool clique and dumped him," to which Benny glared at Kevin and Dean said "Too far man," and he mumbled an apology, but not before everything had fallen out of place.  
The noise in the cafeteria suddenly seemed too loud.  
"What are cliques?" Castiel asked to break the uncomfortable silence.  
Dean grunted, "That makes us sound like we're in a chick flick. It's more like... groups of select people... that belong together," he winced at his choice of words, "you know what I mean."  
"What cli-group are we in?"  
"The coolest one."  
"I thought the girl Kevin mentioned was in the cool group," Castiel said in a rash desire to learn more.  
Crickets.  
"They're in the group where their clothes and faces make them cool. We're in the group where our hilarious senses of humor and *souls* make us cool. Too bad they don't have any."  
"Also too bad no one acknowledges it," snorted Charlie.  
Benny huffed out a laugh.  
Everything fell back into place.


	2. Bike & Enormous House Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, look, I was going to write more for this chapter, I was planning to, but I didn't. I also thought i had been putting it off for too long. So I split it into two parts, also apologies for the giant absence, I am a mikka bouzo (a japanese phrase i found on the interwebs, basically means i start things but don't finish them, but i don't know if that is accurate and i'm just really gullible. probably). Anyways, hopefully I actually finish this because i'd quite like to see how it turns out ahah. Thanks for the kudos and hits i really appreciate it!

 

Two weeks later

 

Dean was warming up to the idea of school.

Instead of slamming his hand on the snooze button every morning his eyes fluttered open at the first chirp of his alarm.

He told himself it was because he was excited to get the day over with.

That was partially true.

He also told himself it was because he was excited to see his friends.

That was more than true.

He hopped on the noisy bus filled with nosy kids and nasty smells and stared out the window the whole twenty minute ride to school. The kids around him were either finishing their homework last minute, gossiping, or singing show tunes as loud as possible. As the noisy bus pulled up to the just as noisy school Dean couldn’t stop thinking about turning sixteen and being able to drive himself with Baby, but only if his dad ever let someone other than himself behind the wheel. Then he thought about driving people around in Baby. And then he thought about driving a specific boy around and he huffed at himself.  _That's a record, you've gone six hours without thinking about him_. And then he thought about him all the way until he reached English.

He sat down seconds before the late bell.

“Hello Dean.”

“How’s it going Cas?” Dean smiled at the sound of his voice.

“I'm good. I think we’re starting our project for Of Mice and Men today.”

“Oh, I didn’t finish that. I got to the point where Lennie kills Curley’s wife.”

“Do you want me to tell you the end?”

“Yea, dude.”

“Well you should’ve read the book then.”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I’m Castiel,” Cas could practically hear Dean roll his eyes, “George shoots Lennie in the head. It was very emotional.”

“Damn,” Dean whistled, “If I ever murder someone don’t me in like that, they probably had it coming anyways.”

“Who would you murder in this supposititious situation?”

“Probably Ms. Bee. Dude, I barely finished the packet yesterday, I literally stayed up till three, she literally just gives us work for fun, like does she like grading? And she gave us a test the same day, who does that?”

“She probably enjoys the looks of terror and panic that ensues from all her red pen marks.”

“Bro, she’s like a demon in the body of a hot teacher.”

“That’s gross Dean, are you attracted to your geometry teacher? She’s thrice your age,” Castiel furrowed his brows.

“No! I’m just stating a fact.”

“More of an opinion.”

“Whatever, dude, Ms. Bee sucks either way.”

“You got me on that one. She’s a bitch.”

Dean laughed from hearing the obscenity come out of Cas’ mouth, “Oh my God, Cas, I’ve never heard you cuss before, I gotta say, it’s refreshing.”

Cas blushed.

They turned to watch Mr. Ariah speak at his ever slow pace and processed what he was saying even slower.

“Alright, get into your groups! Don’t make me regret this.”

“Groups? What for?” Dean said, dazed.

“I think,” Cas hesitated, “we’re doing projects for Of Mice and Men?”

“Good thing my partner read the book.”

“And who might that be?”

Dean winked, “Hey, Lisa.”

“Yes?” Lisa said as Cas’ stomach dropped.

“You have any idea what we’re doing?”

Lisa rolled her eyes and Cas almost sighed with relief, “I’m not surprised you weren’t paying attention, Dean, but I’d never expect this from you, Castiel, what did he do to you?”

“What can I say? I suppose I’ve absorbed his devilish ways.”

“Well hopefully he’ll reabsorb them soon or you won’t get any work done.”

“I sure hope so.”

“The project?” Dean cut in, surprised at how sharp his tone was.

“You just gotta like make something that represents the characters or the setting of the story, like a model or scrapbook. It’s due Monday next week.”

“Thanks, Lisa.”

“Sure. Pay attention next time.”

“But then I wouldn’t be able to ask the prettiest girl in class for help,” Dean said, with grin that spread over half his face.

Lisa rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything as she turned away not before she turned pink.

Cas turned green.

“You’re working with me, right?” Cas said, too discordant, too distressed, too desperate.

“Yea, of course, buddy,” Dean said, fixing Cas with an odd expression.

Cas pushed his lips into a tight smile.

“What do you want to do?”

“Sounds like it would be easiest to make a model of the setting. We could probably do the forest with like cardboard and fake trees.”

“Good thinking, Cas, when do you want to work on it? I’m free all week.”

“Yeah, me too, except Thursday. That’s when I have book club.”

“You’re such a dork,” laced with affection.

Cas’ lips pulled apart in an untroubled beam.

Dean coughed, “So, uh, when do you want to do this thing?”

Cas pursed his lips in thought, “You can do today right? Do you want to work at my house?”

“Uhm,” Dean’s stomach fluttered at the idea of him and Cas alone together, “That works I just have to make dinner for Sam first.”

“Of course. My address is 283 Himmel Lane, text me when you get there, alright?” Cas said packing his things as the bell rang.

“Okay, cool, see you then.”

***

Ms. Bee looked around the room as impassive as always.

“Come pick up your test from Friday and turn in your homework packets, if your name isn’t on it, I’m throwing it out, if there are food stains on it, I’m throwing it out.”

“Hey, Cas, get my test will you?”

“Sure. How do you think you did?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but I think at least a B.”

“I’m sure you did well, me on the other hand…”

Dean rolled his eyes, “Stop saying that, it’s so annoying when smart people are like “I probably failed” like your failing grade is the best grade I’ve ever gotten,” Dean huffed, “Sam does the same thing. So does Kevin.”

“That’s not true! Dean you’re really smart, you just don’t put much effort in it, you’re better than me at Social Studies and English without even trying.”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and blushed, “Thanks,” but Cas had already gone to get their tests.

Dean tried to dim the fire in his gut as he looked at Cas. Over the school days Cas had grown impossibly more attractive, he tilted his head when he was confused and the way the top half of his face scrunched together was all too much for Dean to handle. He had broad shoulders and defined forearms and his hair just slightly brushed along his collar and it was _maddening_.

“Hey,” Cas said handing back Dean’s test facedown, “How’d you do?”

Dean flipped over his test trying to mask his excitement, “What? How?” He said, his face falling.

“What did you get?”

“I got a 73…”

“Oh… That’s not too bad... “

“Cas that’s a C…” Dean said, aghast, “What did you get?”

“Oh, er, it was probably just luck, I don’t know how I did that well.”

“Yea? What was it?”

“88…”

“Good job, man! That’s real good.”

“Yea, she probably made a mistake on your paper.”

“I don’t know, maybe. Can I see you test? I want to see what I did wrong.”

“Yea sure,” Cas placed his scarcely marked paper over Dean’s unsparingly marked own.

Dean flipped through the packet as the space between his eyebrows grew less and less.

“We got the same answers for most of these questions,” he said at a loss for explanation.

“Really?” Cas said leaning over Dean’s shoulder to compare the two tests, Dean felt Cas’ breath on his neck and his mind went blank except for the intrusive thoughts of how close they were. Dean gulped which made Cas move his gaze towards his bobbing adam’s apple instead, and he too became aware of how close they really were. Cas watched as a field of freckled skin stretched and creased as Dean moved slightly, and he became fixated on watching him from such an intimate angle.

Curiosity over took him and he tried to discreetly sniff Dean, which was a poor choice as his nose was right next to his ear.

“Did you just smell me?” Dean asked smiling, snapping Cas out of his trance.

“Yes- I mean no- well, er, perhaps?”

“And?”

“And what?” Cas said before realization dawned on him, he tilted his head, “Er, you smell like grass and spices? Something like chili but like more sweet. Um, also like that jacket you’re always wearing. You know which one I’m talking about,” Cas said to the confusion on Dean’s face, “The brown leather one, see you know.”

“You figure all that out from one sniff?” Dean said, bewilderment painted on his face.

Cas blushed, “Anyways, our answers look really similar, why did you get such a low grade?”

“I’m thinking the same thing, I’m gonna go ask,” Dean said, sliding out of his chair. Cas nodded at him. As Dean approached Ms. Bee she watched him expectantly and her dark eyes followed him all the way up to her desk.

“Can I help you?” Ms. Bee asked as if she was being forced to.

“Yea, I just wanted to ask about my test because I compared my answers with a classmate and we had most of the same answers except mine were counted as wrong.”

“Well, that just means that you didn’t have enough work, then,” She said as if she were rolling her eyes through her mouth.

“But we had the same amount of work, too?”

“I don’t know then, Mr. Winchester, maybe I was feeling generous with this student, maybe your handwriting was too messy, maybe a lot of things, but I suggest you take the grade you have, maybe you’ll do better next time.”

Dean stared at her willing her to smile brightly and exclaim _This was all a joke! I’m actually a good teacher! Not a demon from hell!_ but she didn’t. Instead she forced her lips into a thin straight line smile, her cold eyes still boring into him. Dean gritted his teeth, and walked back to his desk without saying a word.

“What happened?” Cas said, concerned by Dean’s irritation. The bell sounded above their heads.

“I’ll tell you during study hall, let’s go.”

“Are you alright?” Cas said peering at Dean’s face and shuffling his papers into his folder. They walked out of the room and went down the hall in an almost jog.

“Yea, I’m just great. You were right about our teacher being a bitch. You think she heard us talking shit about her?” Dean half joked.

“There’s probably gossip that goes around in the teacher’s lounge or something," Cas half joked back.

Dean grunted a laugh, “Can you imagine Mr. Ariah gossiping? That old bald prune talking about how young and pregnant the new teachers are or shit.”

Castiel laughed at the thought, which brought a smile to Dean’s face. Cas’ laugh was the eighth wonders, Dean was sure of it.

“Super hearing must be one of her demon powers.”

Cas laughed, “What happened to your test?”

“Okay, so get this, I go up there and I’m saying we got the same answers and shit, she basically confesses to favoritism, like she says she must’ve been feeling “generous” when she was grading your paper! Like, Jesus, why does she hate me so much.”

“That’s terrible,” Cas said drawing his eyebrows together, he tilts his head, “What are you going to do about your grade.”

“I don’t care about my grades, it’s not like my dad even checks, after I finish school I'm working for him. It's just unfair that she's allowed to treat people like shit."

“What’s your dad’s company?”

“He owns an auto- shop.”

“That’s cool,” Castiel said interested, “Are you good with engines and automobiles then?”

Dean smiled, “Yea, my dad taught me everything about cars, if yours is ever broken just call me.”

“I’ll be sure to.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you handy?”

“No, I only have two.”

Dean laughs with endearment, “I mean are you good with engines and automobiles.”

“No, I don’t even know where to put the gas in.”

“Really dude?”

“I’ve never really had to.”

“Yea, I guess. But haven’t you watched someone do it?”

“Watching isn’t the same as doing.”

“Alright, that’s fair.”

“Do you think Singer is going to be mad at us for being late again.”

“We aren’t late yet.”

“But we will be.”

“He won’t care, I don’t think he even does attendance anymore.”

“Hey we might actually get there on time today,” Cas said, turning into the hallway where the class was located.”

“I told you so,” Dean said flashing Cas with a bright canine teeth grin.

They walked briskly towards the classroom where they could hear table saws whirring. Dean and Cas’ shoulders brushed against each other despite the hallway being empty. Cas stared down at their shoes, his own black sneakers and Dean’s brown boots. His eyes moved to the other boy's head, focusing on his light brown hair and galaxy of star freckles.

Cas suddenly stumbled and surged forward, shouting incoherently, the folders he had been holding in his arms fell too and the papers spilled out onto the tiled floor.

“What the heck, Cas?”

“I fell.”

“I noticed. What did you even trip on?”

“I think… my own shoes.”

“You…” Dean said concern melting into amusement, “You tripped on yourself? Oh my lord Cas, you are something else.”

“Er, yes,” he said as Dean bent down to help him with his papers, “This happens more frequently than you would think.”

Dean smiled with endearment, “Don’t ever change,” he handed Cas his papers and stood up, brushing off his jeans just as the late bell rang.

“Looks like we’re late.”

“I’m shocked.”

***

“Sammy, you’ll have to finish dinner by yourself. I gotta go work on a project,” Dean said, shrugging on his worn leather jacket and moving towards the slightly worn door in its even more worn frame.

“Right. A project. On what? The inside of some poor girl’s mouth,” Sam huffed drawing his eyebrows together and pursing his face, in other words, forming bitch face #7. Dean stooped to shove his feet into his shoes but felt Sam’s stare on his back.

“Put all that judgement away, I’m serious, I’ve got a project with Cas for English,” he said, trying to smother Sam’s skepticism and slight disappointment.

“Alright. Should I wait up for you?” Sam said, with disbelief, still.

Dean tilts his head back in thought, staring at their popcorn ceiling, “Nah, I’ll try not to be too late though.”

“Alright, see you when I do.”

“Don’t study too much!” Dean grinned as the worn door heaved shut.

He inhaled the chilly air and exhaled watching his breath puff into barely there clouds. Then he shoved hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone, flipped it open and pressed his way to Cas’ number, he clicked on his contact and typed out a new message.

 

(6:32) Hey Cas be at yours in 15

 

Dean closed his phone and slid it back into his front pocket before grabbing the piece of lined paper he had ripped out of his notebook to scribble Cas’ address on. _283 Himmel Lane,_ he thought, _that’s the street across from Ellen’s place_. Dean hopped on his bike which he took excessive care of as his dad had said “This is your car before your first car” when he handed it over to Dean on his twelfth birthday. He had learned to ride it in less than an hour following and taught his brother the same day.

The silence caused thoughts that he pushed down to bubble up in his head. Dean thought about Cas. He always did. He knew that he liked Cas, he wished he didn’t, though. It’s not that Cas wasn’t sweet or funny or smart because he was, and that was the problem. Cas could’ve been carved by God himself, he probably had been. His hair was like a living breathing organism. His eyes perfectly depicted the sky, if you stood with him outside it would be as if there were two holes through his head. Dean wasn’t sure whether Cas controlled the weather or the weather controlled Cas.

This wasn’t the problem, he liked Cas just like he was, there was no one like him. He thought people like Cas only existed in movies and books until he had appeared right in front of him.

He liked Cas. Which made him bisexual (he had googled it before school one day in the library with the computer brightness turned down all the way. He kept looking frantically over his shoulder to make sure no one was there). He had no clue what this meant, he had closed the tab as soon as he identified the label, he knew that Charlie liked girls so she was gay, but that was exclusive to only Dean, Kevin, Benny, and Castiel. Dean knew he also liked girls, he liked the ways they curved and smiled and frowned and smelled femininely like cherries and flowers and vanilla and sleep, because they were girls. They were soft on the edges and dainty and held so much negative boys were the opposite. Dean figured he liked Cas on the tenth day and seventh hour they had known each other. This made him realized how many childhood crushes he had on men like Dr. Sexy on TV, and all the posters of rock stars he had pinned up in his bedroom. But boys were harsh around the edges and sharp and smelled like body odor and grass and life. They were firm and they held their shape and when their voices dropped so did Dean’s heart.

This was a problem because although his closest friends would be fine with it this was Kansas. The sexuality and gender unit in health had been one week long and it was black and white and binary, gay or straight, boy or girl, and the teacher had grit his teeth the whole time and Dean had been sleeping in the back. He didn’t know his family’s views on anything other than heterosexual and although he knew Charlie, Kevin, Benny and Cas was fine with it he didn’t want them to treat him differently and he was scared off his ass to identify publicly as something other than the “norm”.

He pedaled his way over to Ellen’s diner, which took about ten minutes. He had gone the same route so many times that he knew it better than the back of his hand, which had two thin white scars from a raspberry bush that he had driven half his bike into because a stone got stuck in the gears.

Dean stood in the space between his bike seat and handlebar. He squinted at the street signs stood in front of the setting sun. The sky was washed with pink and orange and purple and yellow and blue and everything in between, the colors blurred together so well you barely noticed there was a difference in two shades until there was. He stared at it for a moment, transfixed, the sky painted the buildings pink and the trees orange and the grass yellow and his bike purple. The whole day had been gray and dull but there were no clouds in sight right now. It felt like the universe was up to something. But Dean didn’t believe in a higher power.

Dean’s mom had died when he was four and there was no way a God or even a deity with a conscience would have let that happen. And if there were Dean would like to speak with them. Or beat the crap out of them. His mom used to say that angels were watching over them and Dean used to believe her. The fire was no one’s fault, it had just happened, at least that’s what the police said. When Sam’s nursery burned to the ground Dean grabbed Sam and ran. Everything melted and shriveled from the flames or the sheer heat except for an angel figurine his mom bought at a garage sale with pocket change. After Dean turned eleven and the days neared November he found the angel in their own garage and shattered it into pieces on the floor with determination. Everytime Dean saw smoke from someone’s chimney or a flame from a fire pit he felt queasy. He couldn’t enjoy fall and pie and Thanksgiving as well as he wanted to because memories always flooded his head.

He blinked away from his thoughts and back into his body. He rubbed the tears out of his eyes but the bitterness stayed. Himmel Drive was perpendicular to Ellen’s street and Cas’ house was the second to last on road that led to a thicket of blue and yellow trees. Spots still danced in front of his eyes from staring into the sun for too long. Dean pulled out his phone to see if Cas had texted him back. He had not. A loose knot formed in his throat and he walked up the steps leading to Cas’ enormous house. He knocked on the front door, once, twice, three times, and waited. No answer. He jabbed the doorbell next to the pink door, courtesy of the sunset. No answer.

Dean pulled out his phone and texted Cas once again.

 

(6:49) What time you coming out?

 

The sun seemed to be setting faster and although Dean told himself he wasn’t scared of the dark he would rather not be out by himself with just the stars for comfort. Dean stepped up to the door and pounded on the door again, he brought up his hands to his arms and rubbed them back and forth, hunching up his shoulders so they brushed the bottom of his ears. _Can’t he see me?_ Dean thought, squinting up to the windows where Cas might be. He imagined the bedroom where Cas slept, would he have white curtains? Or brown curtains? Or maybe no curtains and just blinds? Would they match his rug? How many pillows were on his bed? Dean pictured Cas sleeping in a white bed with swirling sheets. Then he imagined Cas doing much more than sleeping and his ears tinged impossibly more red at the thought.

The door suddenly swung open and there stood a flustered and slightly embarrassed Castiel, wearing sweatpants and a white shirt.

Dean’s first thought was _I’ve summoned him_ but as his eyes swept up and down Cas’ frame he couldn’t help thinking _But that’s not a bad look_ as he focused on the area where his almost too small t-shirt stretched thin over his broad shoulders.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Dean! It’s not that I forgot, I just didn’t fully process what it meant, I guess? I’m not completely sure what I was thinking,” Cas sputtered endearingly, and without giving Dean room to reply he continued, "How long have you been standing here? I didn’t hear your knocks until I saw your texts and the doorbell doesn’t ring, which we should probably get fixed. And-” Cas seemed to register how cold it was outside and that Dean was still in fact, outside, he slapped his forehead a little too hard.

“Oh my gosh, you must be freezing, and I’m talking far too much again, here come in,” Cas grabbed Dean’s forearm and pulled him inside, Dean felt his warmth through his jacket and his chest bloomed with biting heat. He sighed and thanked whoever invented indoor heating.

“Don’t sweat it man, I wasn’t outside too long, besides the sunset was really pretty.”

“Yes, well I still apologize. Would you like anything to drink? Have you had dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m okay for now,” he registered the soundlessness and the fact that the only lights on were above their heads, they were standing in a narrow space by the door where Dean presumed they kept their shoes, there were the sneakers that Cas had worn to school, a pair of worn brown boots that were too big to be Cas’ and a pair of bright yellow, narrow strappy heels that probably belonged to his sister, “Shouldn’t your siblings or dad be home?” The area branched off into two rooms on either side, with a door on the wall opposite of the door Dean came through. Judging from what Dean saw of the house when he was outside, the house had to be at least three floors with an attic and maybe a basement.

“I guess, I’m not sure where they are, though, Michael’s at work, Luke’s… away, Anna’s probably with her friends or something, and my father, well, I don’t even have a clue where he is.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Dean said sincerely. Cas didn’t need his sympathy and he knew that, but he didn’t know what else to say, though, and even though his dad wasn’t the most present in Sam and Dean’s lives at least he was _there_. Which was better than having no one at all.

“It is what it is. Do you want to go up to my room? I’m just going to get some chips. Are you still cold? Really sorry about that,” Cas looked into Dean’s eye intently and Dean gulped and willed his body to shake his head no.

“No,” Dean rasped, clearing his throat and avoiding Cas’ eyes he tried again, “No, I’m good, your house is enormous by the way, how many floors do you have?”

“Oh yeah, when my father left he left the house and furniture, which are the only pros of this situation, really, there’s three floors, a basement and an attic, it gets smaller after time” Cas said walking away to where Dean assumed the kitchen was.

“Jesus, it must take forever to heat this place up, do you have like a whole floor to yourself?”

“I have to share it with Anna, Michael’s floor is above ours. I don’t really know how long it takes to heat it up, which is an odd inquiry, to be frank with you.”

“But you can’t be frank with me, you’re already being Cas,” Dean grinned showing almost all his teeth.

Cas laughed and punched Dean’s arm, “That’s terrible.”

“Thank you, I try my best,” heat traveled from the spot Cas touched to his stomach and Dean could feel his own heartbeat on his bicep.

 _Here we go again,_ Dean thought as his stomach dropped to his feet and his chest flew to his throat.


End file.
